Hey! Hey you! Yeah, you listen to the dirtbag diaries. It fits go all. How about a little noise, huh?

Both Beck and I were a little concerned about living underneath our landlord. It's not that we're

particularly prone to partying or intensely private. It's just that off-seen landlords,

especially wealthy ones from the bay area, can be a pain in the ass. The rent was fair enough,

though. The studio cozy, the view unbeatable. The lake lapped against Toaster's size granite

stones just a hundred feet from our patio. It was the first and probably only lakefront property we

will call home. I still wasn't sure as we pulled into the driveway, but after couch surfing for two

wonderfully depraved months, we were getting desperate for a place of our own. Honey, we ski. Some

people buy second homes. We all have different hobbies. It will work out if Beck had told me. I

stared at the three-story lakefront home that we would guard over from a tiny room adjacent to the

garage. They're probably never even hung up, I said. Real estate is just the thing to do these days.

We don't like to admit it, but mountain people can be an arrogant lot. We adhere to an us-and-them

view of the world, typically reserved for despotic sociopaths, a few cleansing shy of an

international tribunal. To those who don't fit our mold, we can be condescending and brutally rude.

I was wrong about our landlord, Henry. The 50-something labor lawyer from the bay was small and

stature, with wiring, graying hair, and a quiet voice that tended to jump and skip through sentences

like the trembling of a distant bird call. As he clicked the garage door opener, our only means

of access to the mother-in-law studio, both Beck and I instinctually gravitated to the monoboard

hanging from the wall. You heard me, a monoboard.

The garage smelled faintly of laundry detergent, cold pavement, and motor oil. We stepped inside.

The blue, red, and gold white monoboard was part of an extensive collection.

Instantaneously, it was clear that in front of us lay Henry's life work.

...